Inopportunities
by CowardlyLion29
Summary: After losing track of Harry and Ron at the end of the war, Hermione moves to London to try a new life. Just when she thought she had it together, Ron comes back, and he's better than ever. A dash of chick lit and rated M for possibly dirty later chapters
1. Faints

_**A/N: Welcome to a very unusual story I have just concocted that resembles chick lit and fanfiction all in one! I think I'll rate this M just to be safe in case I get dirty later on. I'm going to dedicate this to all dirty book lovers/HP fanatics. I apologize if this weirds you out, but that's what sprang out of my head tonight. I'm going to cleverly call this brainchild "Inopportunities" because I'm silly like that.**_

Disclaimer: I don't own any Harry Potter awesomeness, much to my chagrin.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 1: Faints

I was having a few people over to my flat for tea. That was when he decided to appear. He couldn't have waited until I was on my own, composed, dressed a little more provocatively or feeling a little more in the mood to talk to him, not falling faint in front of all my friends. Never the considerate one, he simply knocked inopportunely on the door and it started all over again.

We had lost track of Harry after we destroyed the last Horcrux. One night, we went to sleep innocently thinking we would all be off in search of Voldemort the next morning, congratulating each other on our success and nestling companionably into our separate bunks in a small hotel. When Ron and I woke up the next morning, we were alone. We went off in search of him, of course. But he had not confided in us where he was planning to look next; he hadn't told anybody. We asked Lupin and Tonks, but they hadn't heard. We went to Godric's Hollow, we went to Riddle's grave, we went to every place we could think of, but there was no Harry. That was when I lost track of Ron. He deposited me at the Burrow, and promptly disappeared in much the same manner as Harry had. We guessed that he wanted to try it by himself and that he didn't want to endanger me in the process of looking for Harry. It wasn't until we received reports that Death Eaters were disbanding and roaming restlessly about that we knew something had changed for the better. Harry had won.

We all assumed that this would mean Harry and Ron would return to us, if they had not been casualties in the inevitable battle that must have taken place in the end. However, weeks went by full of nail-biting and pacing, but in the end they resulted in nothing but ruts worn in the carpets and stubby bleeding fingertips. That was when I realized I had to move on.

I took a flat in London, near the British Museum. After the war, I had suddenly found myself disenchanted with magic, and felt a strong pull to return to my roots. I took up studying British literature, and found a new set of Muggle friends who knew nothing of Harry, or Ron, and who would never shudder at the mention of the name Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley called what I was doing with my life absolute nonsense. It was a privation and I was only going to end up more hurt by the time I snapped out of this phase of my life. I kept my job in the Ministry for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but my heart wasn't in it, really.

I rather enjoyed shopping with my new Muggle friends. It brought me back to the days when I was only doing magic by accident and attending primary school with kids who had no special ability.

There were about three girls who comprised my main support system of friends in London. There was Pamela, a twenty-something I met in the library when she was still working there. She was fired for conducting illicit assignations in the Victorian Lit section with most of the male librarians. She had brown cropped hair and tortoise-shell glasses, and she always wore miniskirts, usually in tweeds. Pamela was the epitome of naughty-librarian, and she always made me laugh.

Kat was Pamela's roommate, and she tended more towards farm-girl than a denizen of the city; she was sweetly blonde, and tolerable, in a clueless way. Sasha was my neighbor, and I met her one night when she was having some sort of insane party and I was trying to impersonate a spinster and sleep. I stomped out into the hall and began banging on the door in my frumpiest pajamas and hair all askew. She opened the door, grinned, said, "Hiya neighbor!" and pulled me into the party. That was the night I met Ian, as well. He was a friend of Sasha's and bookish cute. Ian, I'll save for another time. Sasha, however, originated in Japan, moved to London when she was six and never went back, claiming the people there were too smart for her. She had impossibly long blue-black hair, wore the strangest clothes, and knew the life story of every painter in the National Gallery, which she dragged me to at least once a week, to "cleanse her muddied aura" she told me. It was very calming to her, and I couldn't quite figure out why we hit it off as much as we seemed to. In fact, all of these girls could have been considered my exact opposite. I have no creative tendencies, I do not have the talent of "making myself available" to men in general, for understandable reasons, I think, and I would hardly consider myself clueless. Perhaps it was for these reasons I loved them so much. I had to change after losing them; I had to embrace what I was not and reinvent myself.

So, that was what I did. I read widely, finishing Dickens within a year, and then moving swiftly on to the Brontës, and then Austen. I had read some of these authors on breaks from school, but was never as impressed with them as I turned out to be now. When I got to it, I must have read _Wuthering Heights_ at least three times in a row. I got lost in that book, along with many others. I liked getting lost in books; it was what I had to do.

"So ladies, what's the Tea & Scandal today?" demanded Pamela, crossing her legs, showing off her black patent leather shoes and grinning over her teacup. My flat always looked so much smaller when there were people in it, I observed as we all struggled not to knock elbows over the tea tray. I envied Sasha her studio, it left more room to entertain. Nevertheless, we were all quite comfortable on the worn couches in my miniscule living space when Pamela asked her usual question.

"I'm planning on throwing another party this weekend to celebrate the brilliancy of me," Sasha declared, smirking and tossing her hair. I thought enviously that I could never get my hair to do that with any number of Sleakeasy's hair potions.

"Oh, marvelous," I said, less than enthused at the prospect of her usual floor-vibrating music and raucous guest lists.

"Well you have to come, at any rate Hermione, so don't start whining. Ian will be there, so I don't suppose I'll be able to keep you out, actually." Oh yes, Ian. I blushed to the roots of my hair and straightened my gray sweater. I wasn't sure why I had opted for the old maid attire today; I guess I wasn't feeling too chic. My wand was hidden in my closet, and I only took it out to go to work, I wasn't using it at home any more. I regretted that fact, reaching up to contain the poof of my hair with my hands self-consciously. Ian would be there, I thought. And then, of course, to damn myself, I smiled.

"It's like dangling a bone in front of a seriously deprived dog – a cocker spaniel, even. Doesn't Hermione look just like a cocker spaniel?" Pamela teased. Kat giggled and rocked in her chair like an infant.

"I wonder if tomorrow will finally be the night!" Kat enthused, nearly spilling her tea.

"Look at her, she's practically drooling," Pamela cackled. The girls were always happy when it looked like I was finally turning into one of them. I was an oddity when they first met me, and gradually I was acclimating. That meant giggling over exciting things like Ian and Harrods. Now I suppose, I should probably explain why I found Ian so very thrilling, otherwise you'll never know.

Like I said, we met at Sasha's party that night. He impressed me as being plain at first, but then once I got around to looking at him more closely, I discovered an impressive build largely covered by finely-knit sweaters and dress shirts, with endearingly mussed black hair, and a face obscured by glasses bearing a great resemblance to Pamela's. I asked Pamela once why she had never tried anything with him, and she said she couldn't bear it because he was too much like her detestable self. Thus far, I had managed to think of Ian only in the capacity of good friend, but my total lack of romance since fourth year had lately driven me to change my perceptions of him. Viktor Krum hadn't really been a romance anyway. Ron was… well I thought he was something. I set down my teacup and stood up to go to the kitchen. I couldn't be with them if I was thinking about Ron. I opened the pantry with all the healthy food in it (a place these girls would never venture) and stared at the picture I had glued to the door. It was the last one we had taken all together. Harry, scarred but triumphant, myself looking much the same as always, but somehow happier, and Ron beautifully messy like he always was. I began to smile at the Ron in the picture, who had put his arm around my waist when I heard it.

Someone was knocking at the door to my flat. I froze, and the other girls did too. I knew who it was before I opened it, and I blanched. This was impossible, I thought, shaking my head.

Still, the knocking continued and the other girls looked at me puzzled. I stood agape in the kitchen.

"Hermione, are you there?" came a voice I knew too well, muffled through the insubstantial barrier of a wall. "It's me, Ron," the voice said, and I promptly fainted.


	2. Feints

_**A/N: Hey people… glad to see my craziness is appreciated sometimes. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure how dirty this is going to get. I could certainly do it, but we'll have to wait and see. Let's just find out what happens next… ;)**_

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 2: Feints

I recovered almost immediately. I scrambled to steady myself – what would have happened if Ron came bursting into the flat, waving his wand around and talking what would seem to be nonsense in front of my friends? I raced to beat Pamela to the door, yanked it open, and there he was. It was Ron. But he didn't look like himself.

The creature leaning on the door frame before me retained only a few similarities to the Ron I had lost two years ago. His hair was still flaming red and shaggy, but now it looked actually groomed in its glorious messiness. The freckles were still there, and his height was still classified as looming, but it seemed even more so now. That's possibly because I was cowering in fear.

He was dressed in nice slacks, a t-shirt and a fancy jacket that didn't look like Ron at all, but overall the effect was impressive. I pushed him out further into the hall, and slammed the door shut behind me. They were not going to watch this.

First instinct: throw my arms around him and kiss him senseless. Second: not such a good idea. I did at least throw my arms around him.

"Hrmne!" came a grunt from the general area of my shoulder. I pulled back, and glared at him.

"Where have you been! Where's Harry? What happened? Never mind now, what are you doing here?"

"I need to ask you a favor. Can I stay here with you for a bit?" he put his hands on my shoulders almost to steady me, and for good reason. I was halfway out of my skin at seeing him.

"NOW?" I demanded.

"Yes, now! Come on, Hermione – I promise to tell you everything that happened, I just need your help for a bit. Please? I had to go to Fred and George to find out where you were, and they nearly kidnapped me."

"Fine, but you can't say anything about magic or Harry or ANYTHING, alright? My friends are in there, and not one of them is magical." Ron looked at me puzzled for a second but then smiled in acquiescence, grabbed me around the waist and kissed me on the cheek. When did Ron get this confident?

"Can we go in now?" he asked, still too close to my face for comfort. I could feel my knees buckling. The last time Ron held me like this was… well, never actually. He relinquished his grasp on me and motioned towards the door. I opened it to find all three girls poised in eavesdropping position around the door. They scrambled to regain a semblance of politeness, but we weren't to be fooled.

"Ladies, this is Ron Weasley, a friend of mine. Ron, this is Pamela," she winked at him as I motioned towards her, "Kat, Pamela's roommate," she grinned and gave him a miniature wave, "and Sasha," who immediately came towards Ron and shook his hand. Ron looked somewhat bewildered.

I immediately began trying to concoct a scheme in my head to get rid of these three unwanted guests, and figure out what was going on. Why did he have to show up now, of all times? I sat them all back down on the couches, leaving no room for myself, and asked Pamela to help me clear the dishes. She smirked at Ron before she stood up, her skimpy outfit, now painfully apparent to me.

After she hobbled into the kitchen on her talon-like heels, she whispered to me,

"Who's the dish?" I sighed.

"Don't Pamela."

"Why not, you have dibs on him or something?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"What about Ian?"

"I don't know! Just get you and Kat out of here, I need to talk to him alone. And don't look at me like that; we really are just old friends."

"Fine, but if you don't want him… please let me know." She clomped off to the living room again. "Kat, I just remembered what a state the flat is in, and we have guests coming over later. Would you be a dear and come help me tidy up?"

"I didn't know we were having people over!" she exclaimed.

"Neither did I," Pamela murmured. Soon they had vacated my flat, and Sasha was left, tormenting Ron with questions about his Baccalaureate, since, she assumed, he looked too intelligent not to have studied in all the major cities in Europe, and had he seen such and such a painting in some obscure Spanish museum? Ron tried to respond, but I dragged him out of his seat by his arm (no mean feat) and escorted him into the kitchen.

"I need your wand for a minute," I told him.

"Where's yours?"

"Never mind, come on!" He pulled it out of his jacket pocket, and I aimed it at the wall in the kitchen that separated my flat from Sasha's. I silently cast the _Diffindo!_ that would make Sasha's painting table legs fall off and we all immediately heard a heartrending crash complete with splatter noises. Sasha jumped up, looking horrified.

"Oooh, if that rat of a dog got at my paints again, I'll throw it out the window!" she shouted as she ran out of the flat.

I locked the door behind her and turned to look at Ron triumphantly.

"Well done," he said.

"Start talking, please Ron. I need to know."

"It was a feint, Hermione."

"What?"

"Harry went out to look for You-Know-Who, and I was going to follow him after leaving you at the Burrow."

"You mean to say you planned all of that?"

"Of course. We had to, Hermione. We didn't want you getting hurt." I wanted to say something here, but couldn't. "After we stomped around looking for Harry, so it seemed like he was on his own and vulnerable-"

"We were being followed," I stated.

"Yes, and I needed it to look like we didn't know where he went, and if you actually didn't know, then that was even better."

"I see that, now. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt, Ronald."

"Well, it hurt a lot less than what those Death Eaters could have done to you," he said quietly. I shut my mouth. "I went back to Godric's Hollow later, Harry was hiding out there. He knew having the actual last Horcrux would draw out Voldemort."

"The last Horcrux? But we destroyed it! It was the sword!"

"No, Hermione. It was Harry's scar."

"What?" This wasn't registering.

"When Voldemort was done killing Harry's parents, he tried to kill Harry too. Part of Harry became his seventh Horcrux." I sat down heavily on the couch next to Ron.

"Where is he now?"

"He's at Grimmauld Place."

"What is he doing there? He hates it there!"

"It was the only place we could find to put him. Ginny's there, looking after him, and Hagrid comes too, from time to time. But that isn't the most surprising part of this story." I raised my eyes at him. "Malfoy is also at Grimmauld Place. We found him in the woods, and he helped us out. He killed Snape."

I thought I was going to faint again.

"Listen, Ron… I can understand that you needed to lie to me to keep me safe, but this is too much."

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I didn't want to believe Malfoy changed either. You know how he was always insulting you, I hated that – plus him being a regular git didn't exactly make me fancy him either, but he killed Snape. He drew out the Death Eaters, because they thought he was still on their side, what with his dad and all. At any rate, we beat him in the end, and then we went into hiding because we thought there might be more Death Eaters looking for revenge out there. When we were finally satisfied that there weren't any watching our movements, we moved to Grimmauld Place. Harry, Malfoy, Ginny, and Hagrid have been there for a year or so now, with humorous results, and I have been living between there and Ottery St. Catchpole for a while. But I needed to see you, Hermione."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." He grabbed my hand that was next to him on the couch.

"Harry and Ginny thought it would be better for you if you didn't know. I disagreed. And I'm sorry to barge in here in front of all your friends, but it's not the same without you around, I hope you know that." I gave him a watery smile, and leaned in towards him. His mouth was right there – twisted into that familiar floppy grin.

Suddenly I found myself contemplating why lips were so magnetic when you got more than one pair in a small area. What are lips doing there, if not to be kissed? So that's what I did before I could think any more about it.

It was quick, but painfully soft, and I found myself wanting to do more than that, but my brain kicked in quickly, and I backed up, finding a slightly bewildered Ron in the wake of my inopportune libido.

I looked away, straightened up, and said, "Welcome home, Ron. I'll pull out the couch for you to sleep on tonight, ok?"


	3. Don't

**_A/N: Time for a little switcheroo I think… Be patient my good friends, and all will be resolved._**

Disclaimer: I pine for the day JKR shares her royalties with me, but since I don't own this, that isn't likely to be anytime soon.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 3: Don't

Harry woke up that morning to find Ginny had fallen asleep in the chair by the fireplace again, and Hedwig was hooting happily as she ripped up what seemed to be a mouse in her cage. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment from his nightstand, crumpled it up, and chucked it in Ginny's general direction. It hit her square on the head, and she jerked awake slowly, murmuring something about how Harry was a prat.

"Wake up," Harry demanded as he climbed out of the four-poster bed, ran his hands through his hair and stretched. "Is Hagrid coming over today?" he asked the grumpy girl still slouched in the armchair.

"I don't know, Harry. Go ask Malfoy." Harry clambered down the stairs and into the kitchen where Malfoy could usually be found reading the _Daily Prophet_. Harry still wasn't used to this truce between them, but it was something.

"Do you know if Hagrid is coming today?" he asked the back of Malfoy's paper.

"He said he might. Have you seen Weasley?"

"Ron? Why? Isn't he here?"

"No, Potter, he isn't." Harry was puzzled by this fact. Ron didn't spend much of his time with them at Grimmauld Place, but Harry thought he was going to stay for at least a week.

Harry knew Ron had other things to keep him away from London. After all, there seemed to be something between him and Luna, which was why he spent a great deal of time near the Burrow, but not at home. Harry smirked at that burgeoning relationship. Ever since Luna let them stay at her place, her strange demeanor became endearing not just to Harry but to Ron also. And at least, thought Harry, Malfoy wasn't blatantly rude to her anymore.

Harry reached Ron's room which was just across the hall from his own. Lying on the bed was a note, hastily scribbled.

_Went to Hermione's. Ron_

"That git!" Harry swore loudly, turning on his heel and marching back into his room where Ginny was still lounging.

"He went to Hermione's!" Harry announced to Ginny, who immediately sprang to attention.

"What!"

"I know! I told him a million times – DON'T go to Hermione's, but he didn't listen!"

"Harry, why didn't we tell him the reason we couldn't talk to her?"

"Because, if he knew, he would just start trying to figure out a way to get her out of this. Now, he's jeopardizing everything."

"But didn't you tell Neville and Luna that they shouldn't draw attention to themselves?"

"Yes, I did. But I didn't tell Hermione because I thought it would be easier for her to just move on. Damn!"

"Well, Ron goes to visit Luna all the time, and nothing has happened to them, maybe it won't matter that he stays at Hermione's for a while. After all, they have a lot to sort out between them." Harry looked at her sternly while he rubbed his scar-less forehead.

"Don't look at me like that," Ginny cautioned him as she stood up and went to put her arms around his neck. Harry stiffened immediately – they were not back together, much to Harry's eternal frustration. She gazed up at him innocently and kissed his cheek.

"It will be alright, I promise," Ginny whispered in his ear before she pranced out of the room, presumably to clean up.

"That's what you think," Harry said through gritted teeth as suddenly his pants felt extraordinarily tight. He couldn't help it if he still liked Ginny as more than a protective older brother. The way she slept in his room every night, but no where near him was sheer torture. He asked her about it once and she told him she couldn't sleep if he wasn't near her. Harry groaned and kicked the foot of the bed, hoping to vent all this frustration through violence – that seemed to have worked in the past. But it wasn't working as well these days. There was something else aggravating Harry that was completely unforeseen on his part: Malfoy.

Since he turned from annoying evil prat to annoying yet noble house guest, Harry had noticed Ginny trying to draw him out, make him talk. Malfoy didn't seem all that interested, still – you never knew with those evil Slytherin bastards, Harry thought. They'd stab you in the back as soon as look at you. Harry clenched his fists and heard his knuckles crack. What if Ginny went down to breakfast instead of cleaning up first? Harry just thought he would go check to make sure everything was alright down there…

Malfoy was still reading the _Daily Prophet_ when Harry arrived in the kitchen again. Ginny wasn't there. Harry inwardly cursed his paranoid brain and sat down opposite Malfoy.

"Ron went to Hermione's," Harry announced sullenly. Malfoy lowered his paper and looked at Harry.

"Didn't you tell him the danger in doing that?"

"No – well I told him that he shouldn't find her, but he didn't listen."

"When has Weasley ever listened?" Malfoy sneered slightly. Harry mentally sighed. He wished Malfoy would either reform altogether, or go back to his evil ways so Harry could feel better about hating him. If he tried anything on Ginny, Harry would certainly give him reason to get out of Number Twelve as soon as his Slytherin feet could carry him.

"Anyways, I thought Weasley was more interested in that Loony Lovegood, or is he still carrying a torch for the Indomitable Granger?"

"Since when did you care about other people's love lives, Malfoy?"

"I'm just curious, that's all. I think Granger would be intriguing to have around, as a matter of fact. She always has had an inordinate amount of spirit…" Malfoy faded off into some sort of pleasurable reverie. Harry didn't want to know what he was thinking.

"I'm off to take a shower. If Hagrid comes over, entertain him, won't you?" Harry asked with a hint of sarcasm.

He climbed back up the stairs to the bathroom which they had only just refurbished so there was a shower in the clubfooted bathtub as well. Harry burst into the bathroom, still annoyed at Malfoy and Ron, and in general not thinking.

Bad mistake – there was Ginny in the tub. Oh Merlin, he thought, although she was covered by the water, Harry really didn't want to think about Ginny in the bath right now. He had just gotten over that cheek-kissing incident! Since when had he become such a pussy-foot? If he had any courage at all he would have strode over to that tub and kissed her senseless. That was the thing all those romantic people in novels would have done. Instead Harry backed out of the bathroom quickly and apologetically, hobbled into his bedroom, laid down and tried to think about anything other than Ginny in the bath: there was Umbridge, that seemed to work most often – that and replacing his lust with fury at the thought of Malfoy smirking downstairs, planning to seduce Ginny himself.

It was really a good thing that Ron wasn't here, thought Harry. He couldn't have borne it, thinking licentious thoughts about his sister while he was there, talking to him, or stomping about the house. Why did his best mate have to have such a sister?

Harry cursed his fate and wondered what Ron and Hermione were up to. Harry knew through his contacts at the Ministry that Hermione had been posing as a Muggle without any instruction at all – she seemed to have wanted to change her ways of life all of a sudden. Harry liked to think of Hermione as trying something new that would distract her from trying to get in contact with him and Ron, but now their cover was blown, and she would be dragged back into this again.

Harry found that thinking about the remaining Death Eaters and their ridiculous plot to destroy anyone who had participated in that battle in the Ministry fifth year highly distracting, and therefore excellent at redirecting his thoughts away from the bathroom at the end of the hall. Damn, Harry thought, it was no good. He was going to buy that girl a chastity belt to keep him from himself.

The only thing that kept Harry lying on that bed was one word: DON'T. Don't, don't, don't, DON'T think about Ginny.

Harry thought that no one else could possibly be as lust-filled as he was at that moment. He was wrong.


	4. Do

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, big surprise

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 4: Do

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can't believe I did that! Well, I'm sure he didn't think anything of it, but still… STUPID! I rolled over and punched my pillow. The flat was dark, but there was still the light from the street coming in the open window. It was much too hot in here. I tossed around restlessly for a few more minutes before deciding to get up and ask if Ron was too warm. Well, it couldn't hurt to just ask him!

When I opened the door to my room I noticed that the light was on in the living room still, and I could see the top of Ron's head on the couch.

"Ron?" I asked croakily. He sat up straighter and slammed his book shut… his book?

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, turning around to look at me. I just shook my head. Turns out he wasn't wearing a shirt. Just terrific. Finally, I regained my senses.

"Are you reading?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep, so I just picked up one of your books. It's funny you're reading these," he said. _Funny?_

"How is that funny?" I asked him, still squinting my eyes against the light.

"Well, Luna has some of these at her house, and I picked up a few of them there too, this Jane Austen isn't really my style, but Dickens is fantastic." Was Ron trying to discuss Muggle literature with me in the middle of the night? I shook my head as if trying to rid it of these delusions, but there he was still, half-naked and clutching my very battered copy of _Great Expectations_.

"Wait, did you say Luna has these books? How would you know that?"

"Come sit down, Hermione." It took me a minute to register those words because I was in the midst of trying to accept that Ron Weasley had grown up. His long legs in their blue plaid pajamas were stretched across my little coffee table, and I couldn't help my eyes from roving along an expanse of chest I had never imagined was possible from Ron Weasley. I shivered involuntarily.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Please do," I whispered.

"I've sort of been seeing Luna on and off, since I've been staying in Ottery St. Catchpole, but not at home."

"Oh, I see. Well that's nice for you." I tried my damnedest to be sincere, I really did. What I was really thinking was how _not nice_ it was for me to have Luna Lovegood's boyfriend displayed nearly as nature intended in my living room, seated next to my raging hormones telling me to get while the getting was good. Since when did I turn into Pamela? This was **Ron**, not some sexy man librarian trying to seduce me amongst the D. H. Lawrence! I sighed.

"You know, I still don't see why you couldn't have contacted me, Ron."

"But I did – I'm here!"

"I mean _sooner_ than this. I just don't understand it! You said Harry and Ginny said it would be better if I didn't know where you were?" I thought anger might be a good way to vent all this… ugh, I wish he wouldn't move – it just makes looking at him more painful.

"Yeah, I don't know why, I kept asking when we could look for you, but they kept giving me these vague answers."

"We have to do something about this. I can't believe Harry and Ginny would say that. You have to help me, Ron."

"What can I do?" he demanded, suddenly standing up and getting pink about the ears. I watched him and my jaw dropped slightly – it was even better from this angle. Stupid Loony Luna.

"Well, we have to go ask Harry what's the matter."

"What's the point in that? He won't tell us – he's being a right git about it."

"Fine, we'll deal with it sometime tomorrow," I snapped. I got up and started to go back to my room when I realized what tomorrow was: Sasha's party. I groaned and slouched against my door frame.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked anxiously, rushing over to me. He put his hand tentatively on my shoulder not leaning against the wall and a bolt shot through me like lightning. Skin on skin could create magic in itself.

"I'm fine, I was just thinking about tomorrow night."

"What about it?" he asked, hand persistently on my shoulder.

"Sasha, next-door, is giving a party."

"Great, we'll go after we talk to Harry." My jaw dropped again, but this time in horror.

"But, Ron, they're all Muggles – what on earth are you going to talk to them about?"

"I've been doing some research these past two years – not in books, Hermione," he added seeing my eyebrows nearly disappear into my hair in surprise, "But here and there in cities around England."

"Nevertheless, just stick with me, alright? I don't want you getting into any scrapes that necessitate the obliterating of memories." With that, I took one last glance at him, but I did a double-take when I saw him dimpling up as he smirked at me from the couch.

Crawling into bed I thought, who was I kidding, I wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.


	5. Start

_**A/N: Hey everyone – sorry I haven't updated in a while, I just got disenchanted with the story for a while. Hopefully my muse will return to me, if I force the issue. Please review, I like it.**_

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, what else is new?

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 5: Start

"I can't believe you don't have a fireplace in here, Hermione," Ron said through a mouth full of cornflakes the next morning. Milk was dribbling off his lips and the crunching noise obscured most of his words. Nevertheless, I was skilled at translating Ron-speak by now, so I understood.

"I told you, flats just don't always come with fireplaces. The ones that do have electric fires that and cost a lot more money. And that's in real English pounds, not Galleons. You wouldn't believe the exchange rate I got at Gringott's the last time I was there, it's preposterous," I decreed, stabbing my cereal. Ron merely gave me a blank look and decided not to ask.

"Yeah, but how does it work when you don't want to apparate, or you want to talk to someone quickly by Floo powder?"

"Believe it or not, the underground is rather efficient. And I don't miss that wretched Floo powder one minute. It made me too dizzy." Ron shrugged at me. I could tell he disapproved of my assimilation into the Muggle universe.

"Well we're going to apparate to number twelve today, so it doesn't make much of a difference."

"Can you apparate in there?"

"Of course not, it's too dangerous. You might apparate right onto Malfoy's lap. We'll just end up in an alley or something nearby."

"Fine," I sighed, dumping the soggy mess into the sink and turning on the tap. I was too tired to argue the problems of apparating into an alley. I got no sleep last night, thanks to Ron's shirtless, novel-reading escapades. Aside from imagining several blush-worthy fantasies last night, I had also over-thought the issue of Luna being in Ron's life. It didn't want to sink in just yet, and until I saw them both together, I resolved to pretend she didn't exist.

"Are you washing up first, or am I?" I asked the lost boy from the living room.

"You go ahead, I'm going to figure out how to send a message to Luna."

"You could always try the telephone," I intoned grumpily as my insides twisted of their own accord.

"I have a strong disliking of telephones, ever since Harry's uncle yelled at me that one time. But if that's my only option, other than popping over there quickly…" was the last thing I heard before slamming the door to the loo on him. Who cares about Loony Lovegood?

**BREAK**

Harry obviously didn't know we would be coming, since when we finally got inside, his jaw dropped like a ten ton weight. The first thing he said was,

"Did anybody see you?"

"Well apart from that bloke taking a piss in the alley, not really," Ron said cheerfully, not noticing the panicked look on Harry's face.

"Hermione, you weren't supposed to come here," Harry finally added in a dangerous whisper that could easily have morphed into a scream.

"Nice to see you, too, Harry."

"You don't understand, either of you!"

"Well why don't you calm down and tell us what we don't understand instead of shouting at us? I thought you'd be glad to see Hermione!"

"I am glad to see her, but I'd be even gladder if she would have just remained wherever she was, being safe." I looked at him in astonishment.

"Alright, let's go sit down and talk about this," I said, taking his arm and leading him down to the kitchen. The place looked much the same as it had before in fifth year, except it had a gutted feeling without the Order bustling in and out. I wondered how Harry could stand it here without Sirius.

The first thing I saw was the back of a glistening gold head of hair that I took to be Malfoy's.

"Does Malfoy know about whatever it is you aren't telling us?" I asked. Harry nodded shamefacedly.

"Alright then, just tell us already. I think we have a right to know."

"Fact of the matter is, the Death Eaters that escaped – they rallied and they swear to get rid of any of us who were in that battle at the Department of Mysteries fifth year, so we all needed to go into hiding. When you did that of your own accord, I thought that would be for the best."

"Ignorance is bliss sometimes, you know, Granger?" Malfoy smirked from his seat. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well I can't see how keeping the two of us ignorant helped at all. Ron obviously came to find me, not thinking he needed to be in hiding. And if Luna's in danger too, well Ron's apparently visiting her quite a bit, as well." Ron glanced down at the kitchen floor and scuffed his feet guiltily.

"I guess I wasn't thinking," Harry admitted.

"You were thinking too much, as usual," Ginny stated. Harry looked at her, scowling and then promptly left the room. There was nothing else to be done.

"Malfoy, isn't there anything we can do about this plot? Or are you still working for both sides, just like Snape?" I asked him sharply. I'm sure he was surprised at my tone, but I had changed, and it was only Malfoy.

"I killed Snape, or didn't Weasley tell you? And I don't really see that there is anything to be done about this immediately. Some people are trying to hunt down the Death Eaters. I, for one, don't feel that all the secrecy is necessary, but then I suppose I'm not speaking and acting out of emotion, as Potter is doing. You all might as well go about your business… please, so I don't have to listen to you all whine." Despite myself, I laughed at Malfoy's comments. He glanced up at me quickly, clearly puzzled.

"Alright, we'll leave you to be a cynical ass all by yourself." I grabbed Ron's arm and he and Ginny followed me out of the kitchen and up into the parlor. Harry was there, back hunched over, staring into the fire. Ginny strolled over to him and ran her hands through his hair. I saw Harry convulse noticeably.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. It will all be alright," she murmured.

"Listen," Harry suddenly sat bolt upright, "You lot go about your business and just let me think about this for a while. I'll talk to Hagrid when he comes. Go on!" he said almost angrily, and we left him. As soon as the parlor door closed, Ron clapped his hands together and grinned.

"Party time, then?" he enthused.

I groaned.

**BREAK**

I stood in front of my closet – shoulders slumped in disappointment and sighed. Ron had changed in five minutes and looked absolutely perfect, while I had been in this same position for what seemed like half an hour. I knelt down and grabbed my shiny black heels, stood up, grabbed my favorite skirt that always twirled prettily, and looked in anguish at the tops Pamela had leant me, saying I needed to "sex-up my wardrobe" much to my horror. I took the most conservative of the lot and hurriedly threw myself together. Just as I was fastening on my earrings the phone rang and I jumped, stubbed my toe and lost my earring all in quick succession. I picked up the phone, still grimacing.

"Hello?"

"So, what are you wearing? This is a big night for you – who knows what may happen!" It was Pamela.

"I'm wearing something of yours, actually, and I don't really think anything will happen since he does have a girlfriend after all…" I told her angrily, crawling around, looking for the earring.

"What? Ian doesn't have a girlfriend, you know that." I was startled by her reply. Right. I was supposed to be thinking about _Ian_. Okay.

"Oh, I had it wrong then. I could have sworn Sasha said something…"

"You're wearing something sexy, I hope? You can't play the innocent virgin forever." I looked in the mirror while she talked – the so-called most conservative thing Pamela had leant me was showing a startling amount of cleavage, and I knew I'd be pulling up the neckline all night long, but I thought, I might as well give it a go.

"Goodbye Pamela," I said before promptly hanging up. I didn't want her in my head all night. I emerged from my room. The first thing I saw was Ron, hunched over in a chair, leafing through another book. When I came out, he glanced at me once, then again, mouth hanging slightly open. Could I still do that to him then? I was anxiously waiting for him to say something, and raised my eyebrows expectantly, as his eyes fought against roving all over me. I didn't know what he was thinking, but it had to be something good.

"Hermione – you um, _ahem_… you look nice." He coughed, and looked me straight in the eye. I blushed under his gaze.

"Let's go then, shall we?" I asked and he nodded quickly.

We didn't have far to go, only next door, but the walk down the hall was embarrassingly awkward, Ron walking behind me, staring straight at the floor. I smiled encouragingly at his downcast stare and knocked.

"Hermione! Ron! So glad you could make it all this way!" Sasha teased and pulled us in by our sleeves. Her flat was completely packed with moody-looking people, some in black, some with startlingly-colored hair, others clutching their glasses and giggling, tipsy already. I silently thanked Merlin, or God, whoever was in charge of those things, that Pamela had to work tonight; otherwise I could never go through with this. I scanned the crowd and found Ian, sipping his drink and gazing profoundly at a canvas that Sasha had plastered with bottle-caps and sandwich wrappers. I made my way over to him, deciding not to monopolize Ron. Much to my surprise, Ron followed me. I looked back at him, puzzled, and he just smirked at me.

"Hey," I said to Ian, and he greeted me with a warm smile.

"Hermione! I was hoping you would come tonight! You look amazing," he pronounced, causing Ron to omit a sort of a growl. "Who's this?" he asked pleasantly, looking skeptically in Ron's direction.

"Oh, this is a friend of mine from school a long time ago, Ron Weasley, Ian Carter, Ian – Ron," I introduced. Ron looked at him in a manner which clearly stated he disapproved of Ian's intelligent demeanor, charm, and good looks, (none of which I was terribly interested in at the moment, since it looked as though Ron's fists were clenching as Ian continued to talk).

"It's absolutely brilliant of Sasha to throw these parties to celebrate her art. She isn't paying for the venue, and the only real monetary output here is the liquor bill! That reminds me, Hermione, have you finished that paper you promised would be so groundbreaking on the Brontës yet? I'm very anxious to read it. Maybe you could come over to my place later this week and we could discuss Branwell's influence on their family life, and perhaps we could have dinner? I could discuss things with you all night," he smiled smoothly. I blushed and thought I was about to accept when Ron burst.

"Listen mate, she doesn't want to discuss anything with you all night, alright? She's coming back home with me for at least a week, so she won't be around, how about that? You can go be bloody boring somewhere else – and don't think I don't realize you just want to get into her knickers, I can tell!"

"Ron!" I yelled, but it was muffled from all the other noise surrounding us in a sort of a haze. I must have been delusional.

"I don't see how Hermione's affairs are any of your business! You may be her old school friend, but she is a grown woman, and she can make her own decisions –"

"I can tell you one thing; she won't be having any affairs with you!" Ron shouted. At that I recovered my wits and pushed Ron out through the crowd, weaving between laughing people like I was herding him through a maze. Once we got out of the flat, I shoved Ron against a wall.

"What in the bloody hell was that about, Ronald? It's none of your business what I do with my life! You think you can just storm back into my life after TWO YEARS of lying to me and then behave like this! It's completely outrageous!"

"He's just trying to seduce you, Hermione – I have to look out for you." I shook my head in fury. I could find no words for this. He, however, continued.

"I know you hate me right now, and you'll probably hate me forever, just like you've always done, but I feel terrible knowing that you're in danger – of any sort, and I can't help protecting you, alright?" He looked straight down into my eyes and I had no defense against that look. It was the same look he had whenever Malfoy called me a Mudblood, or when Viktor Krum looked at me for too long.

"Why do you always do this?" I asked, gazing down at the floor in defeat.

"Do what?" he asked, putting his hand gently beneath my chin and causing my insteps to melt slightly.

"Make me need you. Make me want you around. Protect me, and just –" I stopped when I saw him smiling. We were so close.

"Come on, a promise is a promise. You're coming home with me."

I smiled and as he placed his arm around my shoulders, I thought, well, it was a start.


	6. Stop

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, but I like to pretend I do.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 6: Stop

I woke up on a couch, but I thought I was still in my own bed, so I rolled over and fell off the couch with a scream and a grunt as I hit the floor. When I looked up, the first thing I saw was a head of red hair swirling, blurry before my sleep-encrusted eyes.

"What time is it?" I asked Ron from my awkwardly crumpled position on the floor.

"Half-past ten. You'd better get up, we have guests coming later."

"Ten-thirty! How could you let me sleep that long?" I demanded, scrambling to right myself.

"I was sleeping, too!" he retorted from the kitchen. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt that had me completely undone by the time I had properly looked at all of him, and his flannel pajama bottoms from the other night. I walked slowly into the kitchen, appreciating him from every angle. This was so horrible of me – I can't believe I feel like this still, after so many years.

"Where's your mum and dad?" I asked him, tilting my head up so I could see his face.

"Romania, with Charlie again. He wrote a while back mentioning something about a girl he met, so Mum just had to race over there and see for herself what was going on. She'll be arranging marriages for the rest of us next."

"Does she approve of Luna?" I timidly spoke. He was silent for a moment.

"Well, I haven't really told them yet." I looked at him, puzzled.

"Why ever not?" I asked, indignant for some reason. It seemed if Ron was finally going to commit to something, he shouldn't hedge over the matter. I didn't think Ron could be a Gryffindor and be so cowardly. But then, this was Ron we were talking about here – he defied all rules of logic.

"I guess I thought it was my own business. I might go see her today; would you like to come with me?" I noticed he hastily switched tactics.

"What about all of that Death Eater nonsense?" I asked tilting my head up almost accusingly.

"You heard Malfoy – he thinks there's nothing to worry about."

"And since when do you trust what Malfoy says?" I asked him incredulously.

"I don't know – I think it was when he killed Snape. Anybody who can do that has my wholehearted approval." He smiled down at me. Of course he was teasing, but I realized I was probably being overly-cautious myself. I laughed, turned on my heel and ran up the stairs to clean up.

When I came back down again, Ron was fully dressed and flipping through a newspaper. The sight was pleasant, the way the sunlight glinted off his hair and how his hand poised over the article he was reading.

"Are we going or not?" I asked, shaking him out of his reverie, probably to do with Quidditch. Ron looked up and stared at me, contemplating for a moment. His mouth was slightly open, and he wasn't saying anything. I blushed under his scrutiny.

"Yeah, let's go," he said finally. He stood up and walked in front of me, out the door. We walked in silence down to the village where Luna lived, all-too-conveniently, I thought.

We were passing by a lovely little park with a pond complete with ducks when suddenly I walked right into Ron. He had stopped abruptly and was looking pensively at something I couldn't distinguish.

"Hermione, I don't want to go to Luna's."

"Why not?" I sighed, exasperated.

"Because, I just don't care anymore."

"I don't understand." What? I really didn't!

"Hermione, I tried but I couldn't stop thinking about…"

"About?" I encouraged, suddenly feeling very dry in the throat. Ron looked at me, very pained.

"Let's just keep going, shall we?"

"But I thought you said you didn't want to go! Ron! Stop!" I had to run to catch up with him. He was behaving so oddly.

"I can't stop now, I have to finish this!" he yelled over his shoulder. Who knew Ron could run that fast?

"Finish what?" I yelled at him, but he was long gone, and answered me simply by waving. I stopped running. What was the point, after all? I found one of those benches placed conveniently in the park and thought about what had happened the past few days Ron had wandered back into my life. I had seen people I hadn't had contact with in years, people I thought hated me. Then there was the issue of Ian, Ron had sufficiently obliterated any chance that remained there. But somehow it didn't matter, I thought, running my hands through my frazzled hair and trying to catch my breath. The only thing that mattered was that he didn't go away again. Suddenly it seemed very odd that I had just let Ron run off without me (again) so I got up and jogged half-heartedly in the direction of Ron's disappearance.

When I came to the middle of town, I looked up and down the streets to see if I could spot him anywhere, when suddenly a hand snaked around from behind me and silenced me, dragging me back into a darker alley. He turned me around, and when I saw it was Ron, I nearly killed him… or at least I would have if he didn't have me in a vice-like grip and was still holding his hand tightly over my mouth.

"Hermione, I have to tell you something, and I'll take my hand away, only if you promise you'll be quiet," he whispered very close. I nodded as best I could. He slowly removed his hand from my mouth. I almost missed it when it was gone.

"I just saw someone dart behind a house down there. It isn't safe here."

"It isn't safe in the _middle of nowhere_?" I whispered dangerously.

"Hermione, you don't understand. Luna and I are partners."

"Yes, you're dating, I get it…" did he have to rub it in like that?

"No, Hermione, we're partners in fighting the Death Eaters. We aren't dating." And he wasn't kidding. His eyes were gleaming fiercely, and I could see he wasn't lying. The world stopped spinning for a second as I caught my breath.

"Another feint?" I asked him, feeling like fainting myself.

"No, this whole Death Eater thing is more serious than even Harry thinks."

"But you said you didn't know anything about this!"

"I know, I had to. Plans within plans, you know." No, I really didn't know.

"But Malfoy said-"

"Malfoy knows how serious it is, but Harry can't know."

"Why not?"

"Because if he did know, he'd try doing something heroic, we all know that. He would want to act as soon as possible to save us all, but the timing isn't right."

"Well it can't be right to keep him ignorant of all this! I'm sure if you told him, he would understand, Ron."

"I don't think so. Malfoy doesn't think so, and neither does Luna or Hagrid."

"What about Ginny?"

"She doesn't know either." I looked at him accusingly. "Yeah, it was my idea, alright, what they don't know can't hurt them."

"So why did you come visit me? Seems kind of hypocritical to me…"

"Because Hermione, I can't do this without you. I'm not smart enough."

"Well, you could've fooled me. And you did, so… well done." Ron was leaning over me, I couldn't think. He smiled slowly and laughed. Damn him.

"I missed you, too. That was a big part of going to see you." Since when did he get so smooth and mysterious? Ok, this is obviously a good time to change the subject, since my cheeks are one second away from setting fire.

"Just tell me why we're hiding in this alley again?"

"Oh, that. I thought I saw something suspicious down the street." He was smiling again. Suspicious things didn't usually make people smile.

"Then why aren't you going after it?" I asked, as my five senses (plus a couple I didn't know about) suddenly became ten times more aware of his presence.

"I'd rather not. Could be something scary. It's much nicer right here," he said as he brought a hand up to my face, pushing my hair back, tangling his fingers in it.

"Well, um… if it's really dangerous, we should – we should probably do something about it, don't you think?" I asked as he brushed something off of my cheek.

"It's not safe to just attempt to attack something, when you don't know what it is. It could have been a dog," he said slowly running his thumb along my bottom lip.

"Ron, I don't know if this is a-appropriate right now." Yeah, I was practically drooling by this point.

"You're right, we should go see Luna." Wait, what? I didn't mean he should stop!

Recovering from my near melting episode, I plodded along after Ron like a lovesick puppy. I was not understanding this Ron at all. He was too much.

Finally, Ron stopped walking, and when I looked up, there was the most absurd house I had ever seen. How any Muggle could see it and not be suspicious, I would never know. It was painted three different colors, red at the top progressing through one of the more unsightly shades of orange, followed by a deep, shimmering violet. Chimneys stuck out at odd angles, and there was a sort of contraption emerging from one of the upper windows that looked like those satellite dishes Muggles sometimes have, but covered in gold and glinting in the sunlight. The trim was white and lacy, and there were large, stuffed couches strewn haphazardly around the front porch. I thought I had walked into one of Grimm's Fairy Tales.

Ron stepped onto the porch with the casual ease of having done it a million times before, and before he even raised his hand to knock, the door swung open of its own accord. He walked in, turned around and gestured me to follow him. I did so hesitatingly; I didn't want to be accosted by nargles or wrackspurts, whatever they were.

The inside of the house was even more ludicrous than I could have hoped. I shook my head at the piles of _The Quibbler_ lying around, some half opened, some stacked into tottering heaps. Each room was painted a different shade of head-achingly vibrant hues that made my head spin, and the gadgets collecting dust on all of the numerous end tables made Dumbledore's previous office look positively tidy and sensible.

"Hey Luna!" Ron yelled with familiarity, something I envied for whatever reason. Possibly because he had been doing this for two years instead of being with me. I still didn't get it. He waited silently at the bottom of the stairs for what seemed like an eternity. I was about to actually pick up one of the dog-eared issues from a table when a stampede of footsteps came crashing down the stairs, and with a whirl of long yellow hair, she descended upon Ron like she hadn't seen him in years… like they really were lovers. My stomach indecorously and inopportunely growled its anxiety at the sight. I coughed loudly.

"I've brought Hermione," he said, smiling down at the girl he used to mock behind her back, the filthy hypocrite. Luna slowly turned her big cow-like eyes on me and smiled vapidly, as she was wont to do. I hated her then for being so unassuming and artless.

"This is good," she said simply. "Ronald, we should all sit down, unless you wanted to gape at Hermione some more, I can perfectly understand." She was smiling up at him as though she hadn't just said something incredibly embarrassing, but I almost liked her again for drawing my attention to the way Ron was looking at me. How selfish had I become over two very single and lonely years that even Luna could disconcert me?

Ron cleared his throat and moved towards what I could only assume was the lime green living room. I glanced at Ron to see if there was any trace left of that sort of proud look he had been giving me a moment before, but there was nothing but a cool, businesslike exterior, smiling wanly at us both from the midst of an armchair that was threatening to swallow him whole.

"I've told Hermione some of it," he began, looking determinedly at Luna the entire time. My legs began to quake for some reason. Anticipation?

"Well, basically, the Death Eaters are trying to kill you, me, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Neville because they feel like finishing what they started that night we all flew to the Ministry," Luna began sensibly. Ron must have had quite an effect on her. "Now, I suggested that the Death Eaters were spying on us by giving magical espionage powers to these strange creatures called 'squirrels' that roam the countryside, climbing up trees to peer in windows and rummaging through trash bins, looking for things we might have carelessly thrown away, although Ronald disagrees with me." Scratch that last thought.

"What do you really know about what they're planning?" I asked Ron, whose mouth was twitching in concealed amusement. At least he had acquired some tactfulness since I last saw him.

"We know they have been spying on Luna and me, but they haven't discovered the rest of you yet. We're trying to prevent them from getting that far. The only way to do that has been to keep the others in Grimmauld Place, and to keep you where you were."

"What about Neville?"

"He's in America right now, studying plants of all things."

"Big surprise," I said, pleased that Neville had accomplished so much.

"So, this 'relationship' that Luna and I are pretending to have is drawing the Death Eaters off course, and allowing us to scheme whenever we want." I wished then that Ron and I could have done some scheming ourselves… but I scooped my mind out of the gutter before it drifted away too far into dreamland. "And we need you and Malfoy to help, because you have smarts that neither of us could ever aspire to," Ron concluded, looking pleased as punch.

"You think Malfoy is smart?"

"Well, when it comes to some things. Harry would never agree, because he thinks Malfoy fancies Ginny." Luna burst out giggling.

"Boys!" she cackled, doubled over in exaggerated mirth. Ron looked at me, and suddenly we were both trying to restrain our own laughter.

"I just hope Harry keeps thinking that, because it will keep him from thinking about other things," Ron said, grinning at me mischievously that made my quaking legs practically start dancing a jig. The glint in his eyes, however, was enough to make my stomach start doing back flips. The thought of being in Ron's house with him later… all alone was thrilling and frightening all at once. I almost asked him to stop smiling at me. Almost.


	7. Two's Company

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 7: Two's Company

"Are you up for another little get together tonight?" Ron asked. I didn't hear him. I was dragging my feet along the beautiful gravelly road, humming to myself and watching the sun sink behind the lacy trees, feeling incandescent.

"Hm?"

"I said, are you up for another party tonight?

"Oh, are we having a party?" I was a little out of it, if you couldn't tell.

"Not really, I mean I thought we could invite Harry and Ginny if you wanted, but we don't have to, I guess…"

"Let's just see where the night takes us!" I exclaimed, surprising even myself. Ron looked at me at first like I had grown a second head, but then his mouth broadened into a rakish grin that spurred on my ecstatic attitude.

I traipsed up the creaking front steps after him, wondering where the old Hermione had gotten lost inside this obvious daydream. My rational thought processes had flown out of my head many hours ago. I could date their departure from the moment when Ron knocked on my door. That moment of prescience when I knew it was him outside my flat, and all sense and reason were gone. Every touch of Ron's was precious to me. His knuckle would ever-so-slightly brush the back of my hand, and shivers would shoot up my spine. I wondered why this passion (I presumed it was passion, although I had never really experienced anything like it before) had been dormant inside me for so long and had never sought a release. I trembled as I sank into the couch and watched him take off his jacket. His muscles rolled beneath his shirt, drawing together on his back, as his arms forced their way out of the sleeves. I felt then as though a wave had passed over me, cool but flammable at the same time, refreshing and exhilarating like the damp wind that rain gives off.

He hadn't said anything to me, only looked bashfully in my direction, like he used to do, long before the Lavender incident. I think I closed my eyes, and laid my head back trying to imprint the image in my memory when I felt the couch sag next to me, and then suddenly softness and warmth engulfed my lips, and Ron was there, kissing me, his hand moving to entangle itself in my hair. I didn't even have to open my eyes; I felt everything as though I could see it vividly. I opened my mouth as did he, and my arm snaked around his back, gathering his t-shirt in my fist, stretching it tight across the endless expanse of his back.

My legs had fallen apart of their own accord, my body acting in advance of my mind for once. Ron eagerly positioned himself more comfortably on top of me, and I could feel how aroused he was, pressing against me as I snuck my hand up his shirt and ran my fingers quickly across the smooth skin on the small of his back.

I felt as though I could devour him, while his tongue gently circled mine. His large hand had gripped me just near my waist, and I had the sensation that he could lift me with only the slightest effort. I moved my hips against his and I felt him tense underneath my hands. How could this be happening? We hadn't even discussed it first, I thought vaguely as fewer and fewer barriers remained between myself and Ron's hands, caressing, teasing – god, it almost hurt from feeling so good. I ached all over in suspense, but I hardly knew what to do. If I were someone like Pamela, I'd know how to react to his touch – I would know how to move and how to encourage. But I was only myself and could do nothing but lay there in simple curiosity and inert pleasure while Ron carried on, pulling and tugging at my clothes – a silent plea for attention.

I drowsily drew open my eyelids and placed my hand on his face. He was already looking down at me with dampened, dark eyes – odd for him, since his eyes were always unsettlingly bright and blue. Where I had previously never been able to see past the mischievous glint usually present in his gaze, I could now read everything in his face. It was too much for me, too soon.

"Ron, what's going on?" I asked, knowing perfectly well what was going on. He sighed and got off me, sitting on his heels on the other end of the couch, extremely far away.

"I'm not sure exactly," he said, straightening out his shirt, licking his swollen lips and causing me to regret letting him get up. "I can't help myself," he said grinning sideways at me.

"But why now?" I asked, leaning on my elbows.

"Because now is perfect. I told you I missed you… now you know why."

"But now isn't perfect!" I said ignoring the lovely parts and skipping straight to the difficulty. "It's completely inopportune – there are Death Eaters out there trying to hunt us down, and if they see us like this, then they'll know you and Luna aren't real and then you won't be able to meet and figure out a way to stop them!"

"Hermione, we aren't getting very far with that plan – the only way we can stop them is if we all get together and stop them with force and smarts. It doesn't matter if they see us like this. It's the only thing that –"

Suddenly, there was a loud _POP!_ outside in the yard. Ron jumped up off of the couch and unsheathed his wand from wherever it had been hiding. He raced to the window, and stood peering out the side of it, hidden from view. A few seconds later, there was a raucous banging on the kitchen door. I scurried over to where Ron was standing, wand out, ready to face whatever was trying to get in.

"Who's there?" Ron asked in a voice as calm as it possibly could have been.

"Harry, Ginny, and Malfoy," said a bored voice through the keyhole.

"Password," Ron said, sounding equally bored.

"Padfoot!" the girl shouted, aggrieved apparently. Ron opened the door, and dropped his wand to the side, completely exasperated at the sight before his eyes. Harry was standing in the middle of the group between Malfoy and Ginny, shooting them suspicious glances every so often and looking sour.

"What are you lot doing here?" he asked in a voice that bordered on enraged.

"You invited us, remember?" Ginny snapped as she pushed past Harry into the kitchen and started rummaging through a cabinet. "Also, this happens to be my house as well, or did you forget that?"

"Ginny, you were all supposed to stay in Grimmauld Place until I sent you a message that everything was alright for you to come over! Nice job listening."

"Well, you said you'd have sent the message by 7:00 – it is now 8:30. We thought we should come and make sure nothing was wrong. Nothing is wrong, is it?" she asked, looking from me to Ron quickly. I was standing aloof in a corner, watching the proceedings as Malfoy silently loped over to the doorway to the backyard, Harry squinted at him and looked surly, and Ginny smashed five mugs down on the table upon not receiving a response. Ron was rubbing his forehead and scratching his leg at the same time, slumping his shoulders and sighing.

"Maybe we should be asking you that question," I said in the general direction of Ginny as she conjured tea from her wand, steaming almost as much as she was.

"Don't ask me – I haven't the faintest idea what's going on. They've been like this for hours. Ever since you left, actually… you didn't say anything to upset them did you? You didn't tell them grade school was over and shatter the illusion? They're acting childish enough."

"I'm not acting childish," Malfoy said over his shoulder from the doorway, "It's precious Potter over there who's acting like an idiot." What surprised me was that Harry didn't retaliate, but instead shot Ginny a shifty look and stormed into the living room.

"Some party," I heard Malfoy say under his breath.

"If you don't want to be here, by all means leave, Draco – but I suggest we all stay and try to prevent ourselves from being killed," Ginny snapped, not even turning her head to look at him. I smiled at her, although my insides were knotting themselves over and over again.

What had Ron been about to say? "It's the only thing that…." WHAT? …That we can do without driving each other mad? Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Ron pulled his pants up higher and stretched out his back. I wanted to feel him again beneath my fingertips. I wanted his mouth on mine, right now. But we couldn't – they couldn't know how we feel about each other, it wouldn't be safe. Ignorance is really the only thing that will help anyone right now.

I wandered into the living room myself, to prevent looking at Ron and thinking those things about him. However, once I got into the living room and saw the couch where we had just been about to… ahem, that doesn't work either. Harry was sitting in an armchair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, fingers buried in his mass of unruly hair.

"What now, Harry?" I asked, sighing as I sank onto the still-warm couch.

"I saw them together, Hermione. Malfoy and Ginny. They were in the parlor; she had her hand on his knee. His KNEE! You don't do that to someone you don't like!"

"I guess not."

"Yeah, and they were leaning in towards each other whispering about something, probably about the next time they could get together without that ass Harry bursting in on them!"

"There's probably a perfectly good explanation for this, if you just ask them, Harry." I turned around sharply as Ron walked into the room. My mind drifted when I saw him standing there, a pained look on his face like he needed to say something this instant. I shook my head lightly. He moved away and stopped staring. I was grateful for this, because I was starting to blush under his gaze.

"Yeah, a perfectly good explanation that they're dating!" Harry hissed angrily. I had never really seen him like this – usually he wouldn't scruple in taking something away from Malfoy, but I thought, perhaps since he discovered that Malfoy wasn't the root of all evil that he couldn't deal with him like he used to do. Ron shifted in the corner, and my mind automatically returned to him. He was leaning over a table, scribbling something.

I didn't hear the rest of what Harry was saying as I watched Ron slowly walk across the room, approach me, and slip a piece of paper into my hand, rubbing his thumb over my fist as he held it. I sat up straighter and excused myself from Harry's side as Ron took my place.

Retreating to a corner of my own, I covetously smoothed out the paper crushed in my hand. I glanced up at Ron before opening it. His red hair glistened in the firelight, and I smiled before I opened the note. It read:

_The only thing that feels right._

Again, I heard the loud popping noise that signified another appearance, and was startled out of the most pleasing thoughts I had experienced in years. The front kitchen door burst open before I could think and two more unwelcome members joined the party that night.

_**Yay cliffhangers! So, this was a short one, and it took me long enough, and I apologize for that – but please keep reviewing, it makes me happy and makes me want to write more. Thanks for reading!**_


	8. Seven's a Crowd

_**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry it's taken me so long to update but my writing has been interrupted by classes and such lately. I hope this chapter fits in well enough, and I'll try and keep updating on a more regular basis. Hopefully those writing classes I had will start to pay off now. I think it's starting to get interesting again. ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing! Love and kisses from me. **_

Disclaimer: Don't own this stuff, just being a copycat.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 8: Seven's a Crowd

"Surprise!" yelled Fred and George as they descended upon us into the living room. Ginny glared at them, and Ron put his head in his hands. I laughed ironically. What else was to be expected on such a night but Fred and George, the two people most likely to incite an actual party, and to keep it going all night? There seemed little opportunity of being back on that couch now.

"We stopped by Grimmauld Place and Hagrid said you'd all come here!" George said, conjuring a bottle of Firewhiskey with a grin.

"You can't have a party without inviting us, don't you know?" Fred added.

"Doesn't look like it was much of a party, actually," whispered George to his brother. Harry was still distraught on the couch, Ginny was looking into her mug like she was contemplating drowning in it, and Malfoy was nowhere in sight. I walked over to Ron.

"I'm going outside to check on Malfoy – you try and get them out of here, alright?" Ron nodded at my plan and cheered up slightly.

I walked out into the Weasley's garden. The moon was flickering behind swift-moving clouds and the wind blew my hair into my face. Malfoy was leaning against the kitchen wall, his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked without looking at me.

"Nothing much, I suppose. What are you doing out here?" He sighed, still not looking at me.

"It seems it isn't as easy to get over grudges as some people like to believe."

"Understandable. Can I ask you something?"

"Go right head, I'm not busy."

"Do you still hate me?"

"Sometimes. Not as much as I used to. Do you like this brutal honesty?" His fingernails gripped the siding on the house behind him. Was I making him nervous?

"I think it's necessary at this point. One more thing – what did I ever do to you that you'd hate me for it?"

"Come on, Granger. Why do you think?"

"Besides the accident of my birth," I said, kicking a tree stump.

"We're too different. I couldn't tell you." He finally turned towards me. His gaze focused on me tragically. "Why don't we go back inside?" he asked. Why didn't Malfoy want to be alone with me? I looked around the yard one more time, the moonlight making shapes from the shadows.

"What's going on, Draco?" I asked him. Suspicion was something I never disregarded.

"I just don't think it's the best idea to be seen out here at night. You never know what could be watching." He was standing very close to me, his face partially lit by the light in the doorway. The voices in the living room carried out to us, expanding eerily in the silence after Draco's words. I needed to speak.

"If you're so into the blatant honesty tonight, let me ask you something else. Are the Death Eaters really after us?"

"Of course, Granger. Don't you trust any of us anymore since you became such a pureblood Muggle? They'll always be after us."

"Even you? Don't you still have the Dark Mark on your arm?" I asked and grabbed his left forearm. His muscles tensed beneath my grip and I let go quickly. For a moment it looked as though he was going to hit me. A second later, as we stood in the near dark of the kitchen doorway, he smiled slowly.

"Sorry, Granger – old habits, you know." He smirked and went back into the house.

I stood around outside for a while longer, trying not to imagine numerous pairs of eyes fixed on me, wands pointed, crazed minds whispering hexes or curses through the darkness. The danger thrilled me as I leaned up against the wall with my eyes closed, heart pounding, breathing heavily. I half heard the footsteps before the voice came.

"Hermione?" I gasped and was startled out of my reverie. It was Ron. He was walking towards me from around the house. I was still breathing hard when he finally got near enough. "Are you alright?" he asked, clamping my waist with his hand. All I could do was nod. I had no room for words. I couldn't see anything but the memory of Malfoy's smile in the pale light from the house. A shadow passed, and Ron's face came closely into view. What had been blocking the light? I had no time to ponder.

He leaned in and kissed me lightly, like I had done the first night he came back. I draped my arm around his back, and he pulled me in closer. All responsibility died while I pursued the high of Ron's presence. The thought flickered in the back of my mind that there might be consequences to such an open display of affection, but it only made me more passionate. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed uncertainty – peril.

He was sliding his hand up my shirt when I heard something crack. It might have been a fox, it might have been Fred and George, or it might have been someone apparating nearby. In the wizarding world, you could never be certain. I placed a hand on Ron's chest and pushed him off, as much as I hated to do it. Why was everything always happening at the wrong moment with us? We could never find the right time to be together.

"Did you hear something?" I asked quietly. He shook his head, but turned around anyway. His neck was tense as he scanned the yard. He lit his wand and ran it along the perimeters of the yard.

"I don't see anything. What did it sound like?"

"It was just a crack, I don't know. I was a little distracted." I smiled at him, and he grabbed my hand and squeezed it. The moment for us had passed within my paranoia. My mind clicked back into full gear as I suddenly remembered how anxious Malfoy was.

"Ron, I need to tell you something." I dragged him around to the tool shed on the other side of the house. "When I came out here to talk to Malfoy, he seemed quite nervous. I think he was expecting someone would follow us here." I told him about the rest of Draco's actions. Ron's jaw clenched when I got to the part about him hating me, and almost striking me.

"I wish I knew why we keep him around. He may have killed Snape, but what does that prove?" Ron grumbled into the blackness. I gaped in disbelief.

"Are you telling me that you don't believe Snape was really guilty for once?" My incredulity was genuine. Ron had always been one to use Snape as a scapegoat, and abandon all other possibilities inside his hatred for the man. Ron and Harry were both alike in that respect, until Harry grew to understood nuances in people's personalities. I was glad to see this rational change in Ron, but it still made me slightly uneasy. If he was really at the point of redeeming Snape in his reasoning, then we had no real reason to trust Malfoy. My stomach started turning itself inside out now, where before it had been feather-light in Ron's embrace.

By the time Ron got around to answering me, a few minutes had elapsed. I knew he wasn't always the one to be quickest at finding a solution, but he always had good instincts.

"Hermione, I don't know what to think anymore. Since both Dumbledore and Voldemort are gone, loyalties have been shifting about. We didn't know whose side Snape was on, even at the very end. We just assumed that Malfoy had changed his ways and killed Snape because of everything that happened sixth year. But, when Luna and I talked, she brought up the possibility that Malfoy only killed Snape to appear as a changed man in our eyes. We have no way of knowing what happened to him after he killed Snape. There have been rumors that the Death Eaters who are after us also had their doubts about Snape's loyalty to their master, and that they plotted to have Snape killed. It could go either way, and I'm almost with Harry when he says he wants to kick the git out of the house. But, even though there's a possibility Malfoy is working against us, there is also the possibility that he truly has changed – and we might need him when it comes down to it. He could be the Snape to our Dumbledore." Ron paused and listened to the noised outside the tool shed.

I bit my lip and sighed. Ron's reasoning made sense, although I was surprised that he could have grown up so entirely to consider an enemy as a friend, and a newly-made friend as a foe.

Fred and George could be heard on the third floor, in their room. I wouldn't go in the place since their telescope punched me in the eye. They were laughing riotously. The living room was painfully silent. I realized we had mistakenly abandoned the other three for far too long. As soon as I opened the door of the tool shed, I heard another crack. It might have been someone stepping on a stick, or it might have been the pop of one of the twin's pranks.

Instead of walking back to the house, I apparated. I was too nervous to waste time in the interval. When I reappeared in the living room, the three of them looked up at me startled. Harry even jumped from his seat, where he had been glumly kicking the coals in the fireplace. I breathed out a sigh of relief that Malfoy hadn't done anything to them, and that they hadn't done anything to Malfoy.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" Ginny shouted at me. I made a gesture to shush her, and put a hand on my thumping chest. I glanced quickly at Malfoy, just to ascertain that he was as startled as the others were. Being satisfied that his bewilderment was real, I sat down heavily on the couch.

"I heard a noise out there, and I wanted to make sure you were alright," I explained, nearly out of breath.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked me. I glanced behind me and all around the room to make sure he wasn't there.

"He was right behind me!" I shouted, panic setting in once again. I raced out into the yard, and yanked open the door of the tool shed. I shined my wand into every corner, but Ron was nowhere to be found. I ran all the way around the house, calling his name, disregarding all fears of discovery. I walked into every shadowy place, hoping to bump into something that was shaped like him. On my third lap around the backyard, I ran smack into something tall and solid. I screamed. Hands clamped around my upper arms.

"Calm down, Hermione!" It was Harry. I collapsed into him.

"Where is he? Is he in the house? We haven't searched in there yet."

"Hermione, please stop for a minute. I'm sure he'll be okay. Calm down." I breathed in sharply, the night air searing my lungs. We got back into the house, and met Ginny just as she was thundering down the stairs.

"He's not here, Harry," she said. She clutched at a stitch in her side, and I plodded down onto a chair in the kitchen. Fred and George followed her shortly, equally breathless, their fear rocketing around in their eyes.

"Tell us what happened, Hermione, from the moment you went outside."

"I just went out there to talk to Malfoy, to see what he was up to. He was acting strangely – more than usual. He said something about not wanting to be seen outside at night, and… Harry, where's Malfoy?" I looked pleadingly into each of their faces. They were all frozen, ears strained, trying to hear any footfall, any hint that someone was still in the house or outside of it.

There was nothing. Malfoy was gone, and they'd taken Ron.


	9. Betrayals

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, it really helps to hear your feedback

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, it really helps to hear your feedback. Keep it up s'il vous plait!**_

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 9: Betrayals

This time I wasn't going to faint. I was going to composedly and rationally handle the situation and… my hand shot out to the nearest chair to steady myself. Maybe fainting wasn't a bad idea. I was becoming the worst sort of romantic heroine.

"Well, what are we going to do?" I asked the four of them, congregated around me in a panicked huddle. "What was your plan for this situation?" There had to be a plan. If I knew Harry, he would have plans within plans.

"The first thing was to all meet up at Grimmauld Place," Harry began reassuringly, "If the captured party could manage to disapparate, _that_ would be the safe destination. From there, we contact the others and make sure they can get to Grimmauld Place as well. From there we devise a strategy for a rescue."

"Don't you call in any of the old Order members?" This wasn't enough for me, although it did give us something to do in the interim.

"There aren't many left, Hermione," Harry answered. "Tonks and Lupin, Hagrid, and Kingsley are the only ones left in the area."

"Then contact them – there aren't enough of us to take on a collection of Lord knows how many vengeful Death Eaters!" My heart was beating so fast it was almost a slur. I never told him. Tears threatened to start pouring, but I choked them back. This was hardly the time for hysterics, part of me said, while the other half couldn't think of a more opportune moment to fall apart.

"I think the first place we should check is the Malfoy Manor," Ginny said quietly. Harry nodded at her.

"After we set up a base at Sirius's," he said sternly. The old Harry was coming back, thankfully replacing the love-struck sop he had been the last few days. Ginny brightened under his direction. If I hadn't been so distracted, I might have been happy for her, but as it was there was a better chance of Voldemort coming back to life than me being happy.

"Let's get bloody going then! We can't stand around here all night!" I shouted at them. They didn't seem to understand the urgency of losing someone you love to nasty Death Eaters. You'd think the war would have taught them something.

Once the five of us managed to get inside number twelve, Harry sent messages to Neville and Luna telling them what had happened and to look out for themselves, along with notifying what remained of the Order. We were sitting in the kitchen when Hagrid burst in the door.

"Wha's goin' on?" he growled. "I wen' to the Burrow but yeh weren't there!"

"Malfoy betrayed us… again," Harry said quietly. "Not that we're all terribly surprised, but he was obviously plotting against us the whole time –"

"RON'S GONE! WHY ARE WE ALL SITTING HERE?" I shouted, my voice ringing in the dusty basement kitchen.

"Nothing can be gained from panicking, Hermione," Ginny said in a voice that bordered on snippy. "Now listen you lot, Hermione, Harry and I are going to the Malfoy Manor. Fred and George, you go back to the house and see if anybody comes back. Hagrid, you stay here and tell the others when they arrive. Got it?" Her jaw was set in that brash way she had whenever anyone was acting stupidly. Five heads nodded dumbly as she held her head high and marched from the room. Shortly afterwards Harry and I ran after her. She was standing in the dim glow of next door's porch light.

"Now, as I'm the only one who's been inside the Malfoy place, you'll both have to trust me when I tell you where to go and where you definitely shouldn't go," Ginny said stiffly, eyeing us both like we were delinquent children.

"When have you been to Malfoy's?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. I shook my head as their misunderstandings once more got in the way of a mission.

"There isn't time for this right now, alright Harry?" she snapped. "Right now I think we should save your best mate, what do you say?" He made a grunting noise and disappeared with a pop.

I tried to think of what Malfoy's house might look like, but didn't think that would get me there successfully. I hooked my arm into Ginny's and she nodded at me. After a few seconds of extreme discomfort, we appeared in front of a rather large house sunken in a grove of forbidding-looking trees. The manor was poorly-lit, quite as I would have imagined it. I could barely make out Harry, creeping through the undergrowth a few yards ahead of us. Ginny unlatched her arm from mine and lit her wand.

I found myself imagining all sorts of terrible things as we crunched our way through dead plants and flourishing weeds. I thought perhaps Malfoy had taken Ron as a kind of trap for the rest of us. Well, it was working, if that was really the plan. We were all strolling right into the serpent's den, so to speak.

Harry was now nearing the house. It was finished in shingles that seemed to be rotting – jagged and splintering. He crept up to one of the windows, and peered in, leaving only his right eye and forehead visible to whoever was inside. And someone was inside, by the looks of the faint glimmer coming from a few of the downstairs windows.

I couldn't bear the suspense anymore, I made to go up to where Harry was and look in myself, but Ginny's arm shot out and prevented me.

"Hermione, you don't understand how dangerous that place is for anyone who isn't welcome."

"Well Harry's up there, and he seems to be doing just fine!"

"There's a slight difference between you and Harry right now – Harry's not the one going out of his mind – insane for someone he loves. Now he's Ron's best mate, but he knows not to mess things up in a dangerous situation. Just stay here and wait until we know more." Her hand remained on my arm, gripping my wrist like a vice.

I heard some kind of bird screech in the distance, and then the breaking of twigs underfoot, and Harry was back beside us. Ginny hesitantly let me go.

"I couldn't see Ron," Harry breathed, "but I did see Malfoy, and he was pacing the room, very nervous. He kept looking at something in his hand, but I couldn't tell what it was. I didn't see anyone else there. Maybe it wasn't as bad as you thought, Hermione," he said, looking at me.

My stomach roiled, my hands formed fists and tried hard not to listen to Harry anymore.

"Listen, I think we should just go back to Grimmauld Place. I'm fairly certain Malfoy's the only one there," Harry said. I quickly formulated a plan.

"Alright, let's go back. You don't have to hold my hand this time, Ginny," I glared at her. She shrugged and disapparated right after Harry. I wasn't going anywhere – not without Ron.

I crept slowly through the underbrush, trying not to make any noise. I wasn't nervous anymore. I was tense with determination, steeling myself against the potential loneliness ahead of me. I didn't really think Malfoy had it in him to hurt Ron, not after all these years, but I was preparing myself for any possibility.

Suddenly, my foot caught on a branch and I fell, face first onto Malfoy's well-manicured lawn. I tried to muffle my clumsy "OOF!" and failed, apparently, because Malfoy's guard-animals came slowly waddling around the side of the house. That didn't seem like normal guard-animal procedure, so I heaved myself off the damp grass and looked more closely. Yes, those were peacocks. I rubbed my eyes just to make sure, and when I opened them again, they were definitely still peacocks.

I almost laughed, but decided against it. Instead, I snuck up underneath the same window Harry had used, and peered in. Malfoy was pacing still, as Harry had said. He stopped in front of a large chair, with its back to me. Whoever was sitting in that chair would have been facing the roaring fire. I could see Malfoy's face twist with disgust and disdain for whoever was in that chair. Suddenly, Malfoy held out his hand to the person in the chair. His hand was so flat in the air it almost looked like it was made of wood. I squinted hard to see what it was he was showing this person. It glinted green in the firelight, sparkling. It was a ring.

Then, the chair scooted back away from the fire so quickly that it nearly toppled over because the person had stood up so fast. I watched the chair anxiously, and then turned my eyes to the other. It was Ron. I gasped in surprise. How had Harry missed this?

Ron's face gave me the impression that he wanted to punch Malfoy, and punch him very hard. Instead, he slumped over and fell back into the chair. Ron wasn't hurt, but he was certainly defeated. Two seconds later, two pairs of hands clamped down on my upper arms and took me back to Grimmauld Place.

**BREAK**

The moment Malfoy grabbed Ron's arm and used side-along apparition to take him to the manor, Ron stopped being afraid. It was unusual not to fear one's former worst enemy in the dead of night when moments before, paranoia had taken over. Still, Ron refused to be afraid of Malfoy. They had been through too much. He had almost gotten used to the idea of a truce.

They appeared in Malfoy's large parlor, the fire already lit in the grate, and the peacocks screeching outside. Ron was hardly surprised. He had sensed something in Malfoy earlier, thinly-veiled but present nonetheless. If he hadn't been so distracted by Hermione, he might have confronted him. Malfoy started pacing the room.

"I've tried to get rid of those damn birds," he said quietly, "but they seem to be attached to the place, in more ways than one."

Ron sat down in the chair near the fire. If Malfoy was going to stall, he might as well make himself comfortable.

"I know they'll come looking for you in a matter of seconds. I'm just hoping they don't realize it was me who took you," Malfoy said.

"Are you kidding me?" Ron said, almost laughing, "You're missing, I'm missing… I know Harry can be a bit thick sometimes, but they aren't all that stupid."

"Alright, well just let me get this out. I needed to discuss something with you. Away from all of them. Potter especially wouldn't like what I have to say."

"Is this about Ginny?" Ron asked, suddenly remembering how Harry kept saying Malfoy was trying to seduce his sister. Ron hadn't believed it at the time, but he couldn't really trust anything when it came to Malfoy.

"Ginny? No, of course not. You've been taking Potter seriously, I see."

"Well he is my best mate; I do have to take him seriously some of the time."

"I'm not without feelings, you know Weasley? Possibly you don't know, but they're there at any rate and I can't get rid of them. I need to talk to you about Hermione," he finished quietly. Ron looked up at him sharply but didn't move.

"What about her?"

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I'd rather you stayed away from her from now on."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't want to see her get hurt again. Merlin knows I've hurt her enough, but I care for her now almost as much as you do, if not more."

"Does she know about this?" Ron said, getting nervous. What had really happened outside between them tonight?

"Of course not. I've told no one but you. Only you would understand how this feels. It's impossible to feel anything for her because she's so independent and would rather spit in your face than admit she needed help. That's part of what's so attractive about her, I think, to me at any rate." He was still pacing the room, looking at something in his hand every so often. Ron watched him with a sinking feeling. Malfoy could win her over.

"So you see, Weasley, I have to ask you… what do you intend, in regards to her?"

"You're asking about my intentions?" Ron was starting to get angry. He may have left her alone for two years, but that didn't mean he didn't care.

"Listen, Malfoy, we left Hermione by herself because it was safer that way. If we hadn't done that the Death Eaters might have -"

"I've taken care of them. I took care of them a few months ago, actually. I didn't feel like sharing. It wasn't a pleasant experience." Malfoy looked down at his hand again. Ron remembered that his parents were part of that group of remaining former-allies.

"How did you accomplish that?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"It wasn't hard when they started out trusting me completely," he said briefly. "But I still need to know… what do you intend? Are you going to just meddle with her for a while and then leave her again, like before?" Ron glanced up at him from the chair. He was feeling uncomfortably guilty, hearing Malfoy's version of his relationship with Hermione. He sighed deeply. He hadn't expected to be given an ultimatum by someone completely unconnected to him and Hermione.

"As far as it's any of your business, my _intentions_ as you call them, are perfectly serious," Ron said, still relatively calm.

Malfoy stopped pacing and opened his left hand, stiff as a plank, and lowered it to show him. In the center of his tense palm was a shining emerald ring, with diamonds all around the band.

"So are mine, Weasley," he said in a whisper. "This was my mother's ring."


	10. Trustworthiness

A/N: Hey all, sorry it was basically 3 centuries since I last updated, but I think it's finally getting interesting again

_**A/N: Hey all, sorry it was basically 3 centuries since I last updated, but I think it's finally getting interesting again. Unfortunately, that last chapter makes me think that this story has to be a lot longer than originally intended. Sorry if my experimentation is a bore, but that's just how it goes. I'll try to keep it going fairly regularly now. If I don't, feel free to rant at me. Ranting is good!**_

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

**Inopportunities**

Chapter 10: Trustworthiness

"HERMIONE!" Harry and Ginny yelled at me simultaneously the instant we appeared in Grimmauld Place's dusky kitchen.

"We thought you were coming back with us! We thought we could trust you better than that! Obviously not!" Harry shouted, making the kitchen echo.

"Well I'm sorry, but you two were just going to give up. I had to find out what was going on. I wasn't going to leave until I saw Ron."

"I didn't see him, I told you that!" said Harry.

"You weren't looking very hard," I told him, "About two minutes later, I saw him. He was sitting in the chair by the fire! Great friends you are, just leaving him there with Malfoy!"

"Do you think we should go back?" Ginny asked, biting her thumbnail.

"Of course! How can you both be so stupid?"

"Alright, Hermione, relax," said Harry, clamping his hand on my shoulder. "I think the best thing to do here is for you to go back to your flat. If there's anything going on, you wouldn't be the best person to take care of the situation, in your state."

"Actually, I think I'm the only person around here who is capable of thinking clearly. Neither of you were in the right state just now to save your best mate and brother from whatever it was Malfoy was doing."

"What else did you see?" Harry asked me.

"Malfoy showed Ron something and he jumped out of his chair," I explained.

"Who jumped exactly?"

"Ron jumped up, once Malfoy showed him some ring or something."

"What the bloody hell does a ring have to do with anything?" Ginny exclaimed from over near the fire.

"Don't ask me, alright? I was about to go in there and see what was going on when you two showed up!"

"Hermione, I really think you should go back to your flat," Harry said again. "We'll send someone over later to tell you what's going on."

I stared at him grudgingly for a full minute before I turned and disapparated to my empty flat, where it rained outside and there was no Ron around to cheer me up.

_**BREAK**_

I had tried willing myself to sleep. I considered digging out my cauldron and making a sleeping potion. I even put on my jacket and walked halfway to the drugstore before realizing that I would never be able to get to sleep tonight.

Therefore, I swilled down four cups of tea and sat, resolute, in my most uncomfortable chair. My eyelids were traitorously drooping around four in the morning, and I was just getting up to make myself some coffee when there was a sharp rapping on my door. I tripped over my own feet in my hurry to get to the door. When I had finally undone all the locks, I ripped open the door and flung myself at the tall, muscular man standing in the shadow of the dark hallway. I had no doubt it was Ron.

"I'm so glad you're safe! Harry and Ginny made me come back here, but I wanted to go into Malfoy's so badly and get you out of there! Are you alright?" I asked, talking into his shoulder, "Did Malfoy-"

I pulled away from the man when I realized that this wasn't the way Ron's shoulder usually smelled. Ron usually smelled like a mixture of chimney smoke from his mother's kitchen and fresh air from riding his broomstick. This scent was more like cologne – something expensive – and it smelled musty, like he'd been inside a damp house for a considerable period. I glanced up at his face quickly, feeling the adrenaline rush through me.

"Well Granger, did I… what, exactly? You think I did something to… _someone_?" The way Malfoy emphasized that last word made it capable for me to taste his disdain for Ron. My arms were still oddly wrapped around his neck, and his were tight around my waist. My heart sped.

"Draco… What happened? What were you and Ron doing?" I asked hesitantly. We were still standing in the doorway. His face was mostly covered in shadow, so I could barely make out his expression.

"Why don't I come in and tell you all about it?" he said quietly, and we both extricated ourselves from the strange embrace. I stared at him for a moment. This was not what I was expecting. I was expecting Ron to come tell me that everything was fine – and then maybe we could have picked up where we had left off before everyone interrupted us back at the Burrow.

Just then Sasha opened her door and peered down the hallway at us. She raised an artistically shaped eyebrow at me – her eyes were heavy with sleep.

"Hermione? Everything alright? I heard a noise out here so I just…" she stopped talking when she saw how Draco was looking at her. Even in the darkness I could see his lip slightly curled in disdain and his eyes narrowed into that quelling look – enough to shut anyone up.

"Yes, Sasha, everything's fine," I lied quickly. I stepped aside so Draco could come in, and then shut the door as silently as I could manage. The last thing I needed was for Draco Malfoy and Sasha to get into a _disagreement_ at four in the morning.

After I had closed the door, I turned around to find Malfoy standing by the window with his back to me, his fingers running through his platinum hair.

"Weasley had to go away rather suddenly," Draco said quietly, still not facing me.

"Where did he go?"

"I didn't really think to ask. Weasley's life usually doesn't concern me. But Potter told me you'd be expecting to hear from someone, so I thought…" he turned around slowly. His face was pained – it was an oddly sincere expression on his face, and it softened my attitude towards him, even while I was panicking about the lack of Ron.

"He didn't give you any message for me?" I was starting to feel dizzy with disbelief. Malfoy drew closer to me. He sighed deeply.

"I'm afraid not. Are you feeling alright? You look pale," he said shortly. His hand extended towards me, as though he would steady me. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I felt my eyes start to prick with sudden tears and my knees weakened beneath me.

"What about the Death Eaters?" I asked, searching for something else to think about.

"Well, I uh… I actually took care of that a few months ago, Hermione."

I looked up at him quickly. Draco's behavior was certainly becoming enough to distract me. He had used my name. He was looking at me like he was the one abandoned by a lover.

"What do you mean you took care of them?"

"I mean, they can't bother us anymore. I'm not proud of what I did, but I'm glad it's over. They trusted me, you know. I knew about every move they were making concerning you all. But I never gave anything away. I've changed a lot…" He stared closely at me, and I felt like some particularly incomprehensible puzzle.

"D'you mean to say that you got rid of your… your parents as well as the others?" I asked him, trying to make him stop looking at me like that. His eyebrows got closer together and he squinted, but he never removed his eyes from my face.

"Yes," was all he said. He looked down and put his right hand in his pocket and made a fist with it, like he was holding on to something – probably that ring from earlier. Suddenly he looked up at me sharply. "I didn't mean what I said earlier," he blurted out. "I don't actually… _hate_ you anymore. Not ever."

I stood up and walked over to the kitchen, thinking to make that coffee he had interrupted. I still wanted to hear from Ron tonight and I wasn't going to be sleeping through the arrival of a message, or Ron himself. I wasn't really sure what Draco was talking about, so I tried to move around, making a lot of noise, so this couldn't get any more awkward.

"So you just mildly dislike me now?" I asked, trying to get rid of the serious tone in his voice. He jerked slightly, like he was scoffing. All I could see was his back, so I wasn't sure.

"Hermione, I want you to be able to trust me from now on. Coming here tonight was meant to be a sort of peace offering. I want to show you something so you know you can trust me when I say I've gotten rid of the Death Eaters – of all of them." He was standing now, walking towards me as I dug into the coffee grounds.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed me what was there. It was the same ring he had shown Ron earlier. I was halfway expecting to see it, but it was even more breathtaking up close. The emerald shone in his hand in a million tiny facets, and the diamonds around the outside of the band were clear and brilliant. What I hadn't noticed from the window was that the band actually twisted itself around to form a snake – with the mouth almost devouring the emerald and the tail forming a small curlicue beneath it. I had never been much for jewelry, but something about this ring made my breath catch in my throat.

"What does it mean, Draco?" I asked him, wide-eyed at the beauty of it. He raised his head a fraction to look into my face. This was probably the closest we had ever been to each other (besides that mistaken hug), and my use of his name stunned him as much as when he had spoken mine.

"This was my mother's ring," he told me. I looked at him in pity and a degree of fear. How could he possibly do that to his own mother? And how was this supposed to make me trust him? He must have read my confusion in my face because he quickly started talking.

"I didn't have to get rid of my mother, Hermione. She gave this to me before she… My mother was the only person in my family or friends with a slight degree of good in them. She may have been a Death Eater, and married one, but at least she understood what love was. So when I told her what I had to do she… removed herself. She wasn't happy anymore. My father was always abusive to her and there was really no living with the guilt of what she had done before. She didn't want me to be like her. So she told me to do what was necessary, and what was right. She trusted me. And this is proof. This was her most special thing. Now I want you to trust me." His voice was rough when he finished speaking.

"I can't promise anything Draco, but I will try. I'd like to trust you. I never thought it was right for us all to still hate each other." I spoke to him quite honestly. His mouth formed a slight smirk – or what would have been a smirk on the old Draco. This time I thought it was actually a smile. We were still too close. I moved over to the couch and sat down, shivering.

"Will you do me a favor?" I asked him.

"Anything," he said quickly, moving to sit next to me. His face was almost eager.

"Stay with me until I hear from Ron? I don't feel like being alone tonight." His face closed off when I said that, but he nodded all the same and sat, somewhat tense, on the opposite end of the couch.

_**BREAK**_

When I woke up the next morning (which was closer to noon), I groaned in frustration at having actually fallen asleep. I was in my own bed, however, which puzzled me for a moment. I looked through my bedroom door into the living room and saw Draco, lying on the couch, eyes wide open, with his legs dangling over the arm. I walked into to the living room and Draco sat bolt upright. He was mussed, and looked tired, but he wasn't allowing himself to sleep at all.

"Has there been a message?" I asked him.

"Unfortunately not, and I've been awake all night… so I would have seen. Sorry," he said half-heartedly.

"Oh, it's not your fault… I just thought that maybe…"

"Maybe he cared for you more than to just leave you in the lurch like that?" he finished, a look of disgust on his face.

My stomach bottomed out. I had been giving Ron the benefit of the doubt all night, but when Draco phrased what happened last night like that… I didn't know what to think anymore. But Ron wasn't that good of an actor that he could say and do things to me like yesterday and then abandon me the next moment without caring.

"You haven't seen him for two years, maybe he's changed too?" Draco said standing up and straightening out his vest. "Impossible to know anything anymore," he muttered, apparently to himself. My eyes narrowed at him.

"I'm fairly certain I can trust Ron not to leave me without some kind of rational explanation." The words came out of my mouth, but they had none of the conviction I wanted to place in them. Draco smiled at me with half of his mouth, which could have looked encouraging, and could have also looked smug. But I had promised to try and trust him.

"Why don't we go and ask Potter and Weasley's sister?" he suggested, brightening. His full-blown smile caught me off guard. He looked almost handsome when he did that. I did a slight double take and then went into my bedroom.

"I'll be ready in a half hour," I told him from the doorway. My face felt warm as I closed the door, watching him watch me with his half-smile. Had Draco Malfoy really just spent the whole night watching over me while Ron was nowhere to be found? Things were getting strange around here, indeed.


End file.
